A Bloodstained Journal
by splatman
Summary: It's a small, icebound journal found discarded to the north of the Icecrown glacier. Beneath the ice you can make out a light spattering of blood across the sides of the pages.
1. Part 1

_[It's a small, icebound journal found discarded to the north of the Icecrown glacier. Beneath the ice you can make out a light spattering of blood across the sides of the pages.]_

* * *

**Day 4**

My nightmares have started up again.

If I'm being honest with myself, I should have known it would only be a matter of time. They always get worse when I'm stressed. I think the bad dreams are just another way for my mind to say that I don't feel in control of my life right now. But it doesn't much matter either way. You can expect them, and you can figure out what they mean, but that doesn't make it any easier to wake up in cold sweats in the middle of the night.

This time it's been Icecrown, I think – I've never been to Northrend before. A vast, empty plain of ice, farther than the eye can see. For the longest time, nothing moves but the snow, pouring endlessly out of a dark grey sky. There's little to see and nothing to hear – almost tranquil, in a way. But I feel uneasy anyway. I can sense the dread building within me, a knot in my stomach, although I don't know why. Sooner or later, I look down – and I see them. Corpses. Hundreds, thousands of them, buried just under the surface in every direction. I couldn't see them before, but now that I know to look I can't turn away from them. Horror bubbles up in an awful instant and they burst out from the ground beneath me. Dead arms reaching out, grasping at me, dragging me down to join them.

This was the third nightmare in as many nights. I'm still shaking as I write, but even now I know that tonight's won't be the last.

I'm scared. That's what it comes down to. I'm on a ship sailing north, up to the frozen wastes, delivering me to a stint of service in Icecrown, and I'm scared.

I know I shouldn't be. The war's long past and the Scourge was defeated years ago now. And almost everyone who rotates up makes it back. It's only for a year, and I've trained and prepared for this, and I'm not alone, and any of a hundred other reasons not to worry.

And yet I can't help it. I can pretend to ignore that fear when I'm around the rest of the crusaders during the day. Act like everything's normal. But there's no hiding from my dreams. There's no hiding from the voice in the back of my head saying, "Remember what's waiting for you up there. Never forget that, don't get comfortable. You need to have your guard up, at all times."

The whole thing is just suddenly very… it feels real in a way that it hasn't before. There were so many crusaders who left in the name of the Light, to the exact same place, in a ship just like this one, with training just like mine, and never came home. So many names on the walls of Light's Hope Chapel, and so many empty graves behind. So _many_. So many men and women, better ones than me, who went up to the roof of the world to die.

And not just die. There's no reason to think that many – most? – of them don't "live" even now, in a horrible sort of way. That might be the worst part of it all. It's the realization that I think everyone who goes to Northrend has, sooner or later.

Deep breaths. There's nothing I can do about that from here. I think that for now, the best thing I can do is try to go back to sleep.

And in the meantime I think it's helped to write this – to engage that voice whispering from the back of my head instead of locking it away. I think I'd go mad if I didn't have a way to get these thoughts out. In honesty, I don't know whether I'm scared more by the prospect of what we'll find up there, or of being stuck waiting on this ship and not knowing. But either way, I still catch myself thinking of what it will be like to finally see land on the horizon. It makes me shiver.

* * *

**Day 19**

Something odd happened today.

One of the others, Bordin, had an accident. He wasn't in much of a state to talk, but from what the others were saying, it sounded like he got caught in the anchor line? Or something comparable – I'm not sure. Regardless, the dwarf's leg was severely mangled by the time they brought him to me.

That by itself wasn't what was strange; he wasn't the first person I've needed to heal on this ship, and I'm sure he won't be the last. Even _getting_ to Northrend is a dangerous business.

No, the oddity was something I felt when I was healing poor Bordin. As always, I recited the prayers and looked within myself for the well of holy power that I use to channel the Light. Only – _it wasn't there_.

There was just… nothing. Where there was once Light, a shadow. Where there was once _something_, just an empty void. No power to draw from, and no way to heal Bordin. Mind, it lasted for only a brief instant. After I got over the shock of the moment, I looked back inside, and there it was, like nothing had ever been wrong. But _in_ that moment, I felt like my entire world had been flipped over.

It's difficult to put in words how overpowering the difference between my expectation and the reality of the situation felt – it was a bit like walking down stairs and misjudging your step. Your foot goes right through where you expected there to be solid ground, and for an instant you're falling. And even though it doesn't last long, in that moment, what you thought you knew gets turned on its head. Part of you worries, absurd as it would be, that you might just _keep falling_ forever – but then you hit the next step down, and the moment is over, like nothing had ever been wrong.

It didn't end up being a problem, practically speaking. I got on with mending Bordin's leg and sent the poor lad on his way to recover. The delay passed so quickly that I don't think anyone else even noticed something was amiss. But still, it was such a strange feeling that I'm having trouble putting it out of my mind. I'd never felt anything remotely like that emptiness, or the sudden surge of doubt that came with it, in all my years in the priesthood.

I'm reminded of lectures on the Light from old Duke Zverenhoff back at the chapel. _"The Light isn't about glory, and it's not about individuals,"_ he used to say. Rather, it's about recognizing powers in the world beyond our ability to comprehend. It's about understanding that truth, until you can submit yourself to it. _"Be a part of something greater, like a cog in a great cosmic machine."_ He said connection to the Light is about trust – you have to be open to forces beyond yourself in order to act as a conduit for their power to flow through you. Open yourself to the Light, and in return, you make room for it to serve you in time of need.

Or so I thought. I wonder what the Duke would have to say about the shadow I felt today.

It feels odd that I'm playing the same role for the younger crusaders as Zverenhoff did for me. I'm not sure if that's a responsibility that I'm ready for. But with that said, I am at least getting along well with my comrades, which is a bit of a relief. I've been close with Gregor and Mara for years now, but most of the rest I only used to know by sight, if at all. I've gotten to know many of them over the course of the voyage, as both a healer and as a mentor, and I think that's helped me to settle in, so to speak.

I had a rocky start in my first entry to this journal, but spending time over the past couple weeks getting to know the others has helped me adjust. The nightmares have died down, and apart from today's oddity, I've been able to focus on the mission, as well on my sisters and brothers in the Light.

I only hope that continues once we make landfall in a few days.

* * *

**Day 28**

I feel very out of my element here.

First of all, this place is _freezing_. It was still late summer when we set out from the Chapel, and even so, I'm _far_ colder than I've ever been in my life. I don't know how I'm going to make it a year. We've been settled in for just a few days, but already I nearly can't remember how it feels to be warm. Or not even warm – I would settle for simply not being so cold that I can't feel my fingers underneath my gloves.

It makes it harder to write, too. That's the problem, this cold just _seeps_ into everything you do, coming at you at all times and from all angles. You can never get away from it – it's inhospitable in every way.

On top of that, we're set up our base in the remains of an old death knight fortress, of all places. During the war its name was the "Shadow Vault", and it belonged to the order of the Ebon Blade, a group of death knights that betrayed the Lich King and fought alongside the Crusade to bring him down. And before they took over the Vault, they had to wrest it away from the Scourge itself.

Knowing who used to occupy this place is no surprise when you look at it. The walls and columns are rough and edged at sharp, unnatural angles that make it easy for the careless to cut themselves on. The Vault is hewn almost entirely from an eerily dark metal that Gregor said is called _saronite_. Where he learned that I don't know, but it covers the whole fortress in monstrous spikes that seem to swallow up torchlight. And it's especially unsettling to know that the grim footsteps of the dead once clattered across these ramparts.

So while I can understand that the Shadow Vault is defensible and well fortified, it's still difficult to call such a grotesque, unnerving place home. Gregor and Mara seem to be adjusting just fine, but me… it's not a place for me to come back to, to get away from all of Icecrown's forbidding frozen wasteland. I feel vulnerable here instead of safe.

And that's especially bad right now. Because what's been bothering me most of all is – my connection with the Light still isn't normal. More than once just this week, it's happened again. I concentrate on the prayers, I look inside and see… nothing. Sometimes I'm able to perform the healing magic with no problem, and sometimes the connection is just gone, with no warning.

Maybe I'm just thinking about it too much, getting in my own head. But it's difficult not to, when if anything it's getting worse. On the one hand, I know idea of the whole thing is just absurd – priests don't just up and lose their powers for no reason. But at the same time… it's real. It's happening. And it's worrying me. I dread the idea that when I look inward at myself, I don't know what will be looking back. And on top of that, there are people out here, good men and women, who are relying on my abilities. What if they need me and I can't help? What if I can't protect them from the monsters lurking out there in the frozen wastes?

I don't know what to do about it. I wouldn't feel comfortable telling anyone about it, but I also worry about letting myself stew with my own thoughts and grow more anxious. That would be exactly the kind of stress that brings on the nightmares.

I think I just need to take a deep breath and wait. In time, if I renew my faith and trust in the Light, it can see me through these dark times. In time, maybe I can hope that things will get better. But part of me says that they won't. The part that looks back out at me from the nothingness. The shadow in my nightmares, whispering that things will only get worse. Time will tell.

* * *

**Day 41**

Icecrown is definitely taking its toll on me. Just like I thought, the nightmares have started up again. I dream of darkness, the same emptiness that haunts me during the day. At first I don't even understand that I'm asleep. Eventually I realize with a start that I'm conscious and aware of my surroundings, only – there _are no_ surroundings. Only darkness in every direction. Nothing to stand on, the weightlessness making me feel like I'm falling… but through what, I don't know. I don't know what is above or below me, or even _where_ above and below are. In an odd way, the lack of sensation is overwhelming.

And there's nothing I can do about it. I can't move, and I can't will myself awake. I can just continue to fall, endlessly, through the horrible abyss, and take in its incomprehensible immensity. Only when I am on the verge of breaking do I wake – never before.

I don't have the first idea of what to do about my powers. I've still managed to keep it all a secret from the others so far, but how long can that last? Is it even for the best? It all feels so convoluted. I've tried my hardest to put the whole thing out of my head, but if my dreams are any indication, that's been a miserable failure.

And there's something else. Yesterday, I was sent out on a patrol with Mara and Daltyn, one of the younger paladins. No sign of any Scourge this time, thankfully – but our path took us to the edge of an old wartime excavation site, further into the basin that makes up the Icecrown glacier. It's long abandoned these days, but Daltyn said that when it was still in use, it was the Scourge's source of saronite in the area, the same material that makes up the Shadow Vault. He called it the "Weeping Quarry," and he shared some old stories about it with Mara and me. Apparently, there are legends that saronite is actually the hardened blood of an ancient, dead god buried deep beneath the earth. Slaves forced by the Scourge to dig up the saronite would fall under the influence of the god and eventually go mad. I don't know whether that's a story that the Scourge made up to frighten the living back in the day, or one that someone else made up to frighten Daltyn. But either way, it's certainly an image that sticks in the brain, isn't it?

Well, it's anyone's guess how the Weeping Quarry got its name, but there was definitely something unsettling about that place. It is difficult to put my finger on what exactly that was – after all, it's nothing much to look at. Naught but an enormous pit carved out of the frozen ground, with a still pool of half-frozen water at the bottom. But as I stood there looking over the edge, there was something about the stillness of the place that made me feel very small and very alone, in spite of my companions. The same feeling that I get in my nightmares of late.

And… I know it sounds silly to say so, but I felt something else, something more. I felt like I was in the presence of something. It was almost like… like the touch of power a priest feels when channeling the Light, but in a horribly twisted way. Like a warped form of the same connection to the Light that I've been losing these past weeks.

I know what kind of foolishness that sounds like. I know that it seems stupid as soon as I write it down. I know that's what I get for listening to Daltyn's stories, and for letting my own fears get the better of me. I know all that. But I also know what I _felt_. And I have to trust that. If I can't trust what I'm feeling, if I can't trust what's in my own head…

_[The paragraph finishes with: "then I'm already too far gone." But the words are scribbled through.] _

Well, that's not something I can afford to consider right now.

* * *

**Day 58**

What's happening to me? This has progressed past the point of just being a problem – it's nearly all I think about anymore. Not the deepening cold, or the intimidating fortress we call home, or even the monsters lurking out there in the glacier. Less than two months have passed since we set out for Northrend, but already I feel like I can't remember what it was like to live without this awful shadow hanging over me.

On top of that, I feel like I'm a liability to everyone else. It's been weeks since I've healed anyone, and… to be honest, I don't know if I'd be able if I needed to. Luckily, the need hasn't arisen, but the longer I spend around the rest of the company, the more likely it is that I'll be put in a compromising situation. So I just keep to myself – but then I'm alone with my own thoughts, and that's not good either. I don't know how long it's been since I had a decent night's rest.

Each night, I have the same nightmare, falling forever into a vast empty nothingness. But recently that hasn't been all – at the point where I used to scare myself awake, now I go on. Through the endless void, for what feels like forever. But eventually, I start to see dim rays of light around me, descending from a murky circle above. With a start I realize that I'm underwater – and even though there'd be no way for me to tell, I know in my heart that I'm trapped deep in the pool at the bottom of the Weeping Quarry. I try desperately to swim for the frozen surface, but I know that I won't make it. And then, just as I give in, and just before I finally wake, I hear… a voice. Terrible and monstrous, but there's no speaker – it feels like it's washing over me from all directions. And despite the almost tranquil silence beneath the surface, I can _feel_ it resonating in my head, whispering the same thing, every night. _"There is no escape. Not in this life, not in the next."_

I wish I had the capacity to think it through and reassure myself that it's only a dream. But the truth is that I'm frightened. By my nightmares, and by this Light-forsaken _place_, and by everything that's been happening to me. And I'm exhausted and I can't think straight and I don't see how to make it better and the only voice I can hear right now is telling me that there's no escape.

I think that, for now, I've managed to keep my troubles a secret from everyone else. But I won't be able to continue that forever. They'll find out that underneath the mask I put on, I've become… hollow. And then what? What will Gregor and Mara think? What will all of them think of me?

No one to turn to. Everything getting worse. I feel like I'm unraveling. What do I do?


	2. Part 2

**Day 66**

The camp had an accident earlier today.

Bordin, Brom, and Galadan went out on patrol and got caught by a yeti hiding in the snowdrift. They drove the beast off, but not before it got hold of Galadan with one of those monstrous horns. It was a gruesome sight when they dragged him back to the encampment – the trail of icy blood extended back a very long way by the time they reached our gates. If the poor bastard wasn't dead already, he passed soon after they made it back. No one could have expected me to save him in that state.

But awful as it sounds, that was the first thing I thought about when I saw them coming. I never paused to feel for Galadan, or to process his loss, not until hours after they brought him back. Instead I just felt my heartbeat quicken while I tried to invent an excuse for why I shouldn't be the one to heal him, why someone else should do it instead. And soon as I could, I slipped away to be alone down in the quarry.

It's still an unsettling place, but more and more I'm starting to find it preferable to being around the others. It's not that they don't trust me – just the opposite. To them, nothing's changed. They still come to me as a friend. They believe in me. They don't hold Galadan against me.

But if anything, that makes it all worse. Because I don't feel the same way about myself at all. Their friendship, their faith, their love – it's all built on a lie, if you think about it. And what would they do if they found that out? Would they realize that they're fools to put their trust in me? Would they abandon me?

I don't want to find out. I can't – I just couldn't handle that, not right now. So I snuck away as early as I could. And before I left, I stole a dagger from the armory. In the past I've never felt like I would need anything besides my staff to defend myself. But these days, I fear a staff won't be the much use in my hands.

Stealing from my brothers and sisters, avoiding them at every opportunity, feeling like I'm losing myself in the process… How did it come to this?

I don't have a plan. I don't know how long I'll lay low here. I just know that I need to be alone for a while. Even if the others realized I was gone, they wouldn't be likely to come looking for me here. And I think… that's what I need right now. Just some time to be alone.

* * *

**Day 84**

I heard the voice again! Just now. I'm sitting just inside the quarry, shaking as I write.

I've been spending more time here of late. It feels as unnerving as ever, but when I come to the quarry I can be alone, and that by itself is worth the cost. And I thought that would be especially useful today – because I had been thinking. I've had no end of problems since I've come to Northrend, to put it lightly – but the root of them all is that my ability to use the Light has diminished. My trying to handle that problem is what led to all the rest.

That's why I wanted to fix it. It was stupid, and I know that, but I got it in my head that I was going to do whatever was necessary to get that connection back. It's been so long since I've been able to feel the Light's touch, but I decided I was going to try and find it anyway. Again and again and again if I needed, no matter how many times it took.

So I came to the quarry, out of sight of everyone else, and I tried. I looked inward like I've done a thousand times before. As expected, I was struck by that awful sensation of falling, plummeting into the abyss. And this time, I embraced it, let it wash over me – and waited to emerge into the Light on the other side.

It was no use – but I was determined. I tried again, and waited longer, over and over. Nothing. I tried for _hours_, but I didn't want to give up. Before long, I was sitting there on the icy ground for unbearably long stretches, minutes in a row, with that horrible feeling the whole time – just waiting for something, anything, any kind of sign to penetrate the darkness.

And that's when I heard it. The same voice from my dream, suddenly there, echoing in my head. It said: _"Look around. They will all betray you. Flee screaming into the black forest."_

Immediately I was filled with the urge to panic. To run away, close my eyes, plug up my ears, do whatever it took to _get away_ – the words bouncing around in my brain the whole while. Eventually I was able to wrench myself out of the trance, and back into the freezing cold of Icecrown. And that's where I've stayed since, trying to catch my breath and calm myself down.

There was such a contrast between the adrenaline-fueled pounding of my heart and the eerie stillness of the quarry.

I was… terrified. I _am_ terrified. I don't know what words I can write to explain how I felt, but _never_ have I felt more frightened than when I was forced to behold the power behind that voice, echoing out of the void. It was both horrible and awe-inspiring. Primal and incomprehensible. And above all – disturbing. Because as I've been writing this all down, it's been starting to make me wonder.

I had always been searching for the Light. Each time I performed the meditation and said the prayers, I had only ever been looking for one thing. And when I couldn't find it, I assumed that there was nothing else _to_ find – that the blackness I saw held naught but emptiness. But now I know that isn't true. It _can't_ be true – not if something spoke to me from the void. Something that also spoke to me in my dreams! And if the Light isn't the only thing out there… what other great powers lurk in the endless black?

I find myself thinking of old Duke Zverenhoff and his teachings, about powers beyond our ability to comprehend… _"Be a part of something greater, like a cog in a great cosmic machine." _Perhaps there are other forces at work in the Great Dark Beyond, powering their own cosmic machines.

Perhaps – or perhaps I'm going mad.

* * *

**Day 90**

_[This page is marred by tearstains and ink smudges.]_

I've done something horrible.

We were out on patrol and we were ambushed. I was with Logan and Mara, making our way through a blizzard as far as the Ironwall Rampart and back. We were nearly there when a pack of ghouls attacked us out of the snowstorm – not many, but enough, and they had us surprised and unprepared.

What was I to do? I couldn't heal them – the Light has abandoned me. I pulled out my dagger, but I was completely helpless in front of those teeth and claws. So I did the only thing I could – I tried to hide behind Mara while Logan charged forward to take on the brunt of them.

Mara… Light save me, I didn't even realize until now – she must have thought I was moving behind her to support her with magic. But when she moved in and got herself surrounded by the monsters… I was so powerless, I didn't know what to do. I can still feel how I was shaking with fear while I watched. One of the ghouls mauled her in the back and drove her to the ground. When she fell, she just… _looked_ at me. She stared at me the whole time, even while they were ripping into her and the blood started pouring out of her mouth.

She looked so scared. And I just stood there and watched her die.

After Logan drove them off, he was furious. He saw my cowardice. He _knew_. It's burned into my head, the image of him kneeling over Mara's body. Their heavily cloaked figures, the only dark spots in the endless, swirling, howling white that blanketed everything else – everything else except the red quickly seeping into the snow around them.

And when he turned to face me, to demand an explanation, I could see the anger in his eyes. I didn't know what to tell him. What _could_ I tell him? What were the options? How could I keep him from telling everyone else? What if I couldn't even make it that far – was he going to hurt me? It all happened so fast, I had no time to think; I panicked.

When he was close, I pointed behind him. Said there were more coming. When Logan turned to look, I raised up the dagger. I…

I did it.

I didn't have a choice. He _knew_. And I couldn't let him know. I couldn't. If I did, then he'd tell the others, and they'd all know my secret too. They'd abandon me and leave me for dead. So I _couldn't_ let him live, there was nothing else I could do.

It all happened so quickly – it was almost like an out of body experience, watching myself do it.

I ran. I ran and I didn't stop until I made it back to the quarry. I don't know what to do next – I just know that I can't go back to the Shadow Vault, not anymore. They'll never understand me – if anything they'd try to hurt me like Logan would have. No, they'd never trust me. So how can I trust them? I can't. They couldn't help me anyway – not even the Light can help me. The only thing that's been right is this damn voice whispering in my head. It's driving me mad, but now it's all I have left. Without it I'm… alone.

By the Light, I've killed someone. What have I done?

* * *

**Day 91**

_[This page is somewhat of a mess. It looks like a failed attempt at a journal entry. As with the previous pages, it is marred by smudges and tearstains._

_Most notable, however, is that nearly the entire first half of the entry has been scribbled through or crossed out. Much of it has been rendered illegible._

_The two lines you can make out are:_

"_It WAS your fault."_

"_You are a pawn of forces unseen."_

_Towards the bottom is the one line that is easily readable.]_

My head hurts so much. Why can't it just leave me alone? What did I do to deserve this?

_[The rest of the page is just the same sentence repeated several times, crossed out each time.]_

What if it's right?

* * *

_[This entry is not dated.]_

I think they're coming to kill me.

Or maybe I don't – I'm not sure. I can't keep my thoughts straight anymore.

I don't know how long it's been since I killed Logan. It seems like ages, but it hasn't been so long that the others haven't already found me to take their revenge for him and for Mara. It's only a matter of time, though. I betrayed them all and they're going to kill me for it.

It feels like it's been so long. I can't remember the last time I ate anything, or even the last time I slept. Although it wouldn't be easy to know if I had – the nightmares flow freely into the waking world now, visions that hound and haunt me without end. Sometimes they show me Logan, the rage in his eyes just before I stabbed him. Or else the other crusaders, coming into view of the quarry, armed and armored and merciless. Or sometimes they force me to watch poor, terrified Mara, just staring at me while she died.

_It WAS your fault._

They never let me look away.

And through it all – the voices. Endlessly they speak to me, _into_ me, day and night, needling at my brain, never giving me a moment's respite. They whisper of my failures, my desires, my fears. Of the crusaders, and how they see me. Of powers I do not understand, and of dark, terrible secrets hidden deep within the earth. Is it all one voice, or many? Is it still the same one I heard in my dreams, calling out from the void?

Or is it all just me? It gets harder and harder to tell which are my own thoughts and which are not.

_They are coming for you right now. Kill them before they kill you._

I'm tired. Tired of nightmares. Tired of looking over my shoulder, waiting for the moment they come for me. Tired of being so _scared_. I'm tired of feeling like I have to fight to stay in my own head.

_It's about recognizing powers in the world beyond our ability to comprehend._

I submit.

* * *

_[All of the remaining pages are empty, except for one. It has no date or any other heading, and much of it is stained with dry blood._

_At the center of the page is a sketch of a grotesquely morphed head, half-submerged in some kind of pool. The exposed "face" is mostly just an enormous, fanged maw. It is rimmed by scores of other mouths, smaller but similar in appearance. The face lacks eyes, a nose, or any other features – just countless maws and teeth. It is unsettling to look at._

_The rest of the page is filled with text. The handwriting matches the rest of the journal, but it's all words you've never seen or heard before. The lines bend and cram into the margins, leaving no space blank. On inspection, you notice a pattern. The words spell out the same phrase over and over: "Uulwi ifis halahs gag erh'ongg w'ssh."]_


End file.
